


Good Moron

by RedLetterWriter



Category: Chasing Liberty (2004)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLetterWriter/pseuds/RedLetterWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chase has led Morales and Weiss onto a rooftop where they end up spending the night - basically an extended transcript of the thirty second scene in the movie with extra details thrown in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Moron

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and the associated movie obviously aren't mine (ownership lies with Alcon Entertainment and Warner Bros.); just borrowing them for a bit.

The assignment was a little ridiculous. Anna just wanted her freedom - so said the agents to each other, the First Lady to Mr. President, and Anna to everyone who got in her way. _She is eighteen after all, doesn’t that mean she can do what pleased?_ Cynthia Morales wondered vaguely. Besides, all things considered Morales was sure Liberty could have been on much worse behavior than she had been, a tantrum here, a shouting match over a botched date there, that was really nothing at all. 

Weiss had told her stories about previous First Children who made it a habit to drag barnyard animals through the halls and ride sleds down the stairs like heathens - but those stories were less than believable because Weiss was a moron; a good agent, loyal, trustworthy, and obviously a good man (whatever the hell that meant, Morales wasn’t actually sure) or else he wouldn’t be an agent at all and certainly not one designated to look after Mr. President’s most valuable asset, but he was still a moron. Like a dog that ran headfirst into a wall and was all too happy to do it again. And again. And Morales was the wall.

They were on a rooftop in Prague, several buildings over from Anna, just far enough away that even if she had been able to tear her eyes away from Calder she wouldn’t be able to spot them. What were they doing? Calder had gotten her smashed, or maybe she had gotten herself smashed, Morales didn’t actually know or care. Liberty was intoxicated, Calder, while tall and handsome (which Morales had found attractive at first) and an agent himself, wasn’t sticking to the plan, and Morales was stuck on a roof in the middle of the night taking notes, while Weiss sat next to her, looking over her shoulder every few seconds. He was supposed to be periodically watching Anna and Ben with the binoculars but instead they sat in his lap, his hands at his sides, his head tilted towards the sound of the opera, a dreamy expression on his face.

Maybe the opera was the problem, it gave Morales a bit of a headache, it was too loud, too abrupt, too unlike anything she usually listened to. And it was cold. And sitting on concrete was proving to be vastly uncomfortable. She slipped off her shoes, stretched her legs. She checked the time and wrote another unimpressive update on Liberty’s whereabouts.

_Still on roof. Stationary._

She took the binoculars out of Weiss’ lap and he didn’t seem to notice. She trained them on Ben and Anna. Neither was moving and Anna looked very much like she was asleep - either that or passed out cold. Morales rolled her eyes, how could anyone fall asleep up here? The noise, the elements, the cement, the- something heavy settled itself onto her shoulder, cutting off her train of thought.

Weiss.

_Really?_ She asked herself. She looked at him for a moment. The top of his head right up against her ear, the side of his face pressed into her jacket. Even his upper body had shifted and was leaning softly into hers. His mouth open slightly, his limbs relaxed. _Really?_ She thought again.

She looked back at her notebook, her pen poised over the paper. She thought about waking him, shoving his head the other direction, flicking him on the temple, jostling his shoulder despite knowing he slept like he was dead - but on the other hand they were, technically speaking, partners. And partners were supposed to take care of each other when on assignments, even the ridiculous ones. She supposed taking care of each other meant letting the other guy sleep when he dozed off first. Besides, at least this way he was quiet. No outrageous stories, no mildly suggestive comments, no loudmouthed construction worker breathing down her neck.

She glanced at him once more. _You should have slept on the plane over,_ she thought at him. He didn’t budge. Shaking her head a bit, she went back to her notes.

-

The sun was coming up. Weiss always noticed that sort of thing. _Isn’t that beautiful?_ He wanted to ask her. She wouldn’t care obviously, she never did, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to point out the pretty things to her, and in doing so point out that he was the kind of guy that noticed the pretty things. It was convoluted logic, but he was sure it would work. Eventually. Probably.

But right now he couldn’t point out the sunrise, because when he had woken up a few hours ago, pleasantly surprised to find himself using her shoulder as a pillow, he also found her with her own head back against the concrete pillar, her neck bent at an awkward angle. 

_That must hurt,_ he had thought, lifting his own head up. He had tried to get her to wake up so she could adjust herself how she wanted, but the gentle taps on her forearm and several whispers of:

_“Psst. Morales. Morales. Wake up.”_ Did nothing. Nor did: _“Cynthia, move your head the other direction.”_ Which he immediately regretted because her first name felt weird to his mouth. 

He had been chewing on the tip of his finger and looking at her, trying to figure out how to move her without touching her when she flinched in her sleep and began sliding towards him, her jacket slick on the wall. He caught her, one hand on her arm and the other near her ribs on the opposite side. Holding his breath, he pulled her in closer to himself and placed her head veeery gently on his thigh. He exhaled as quietly as he could. He hoped when she woke up she wouldn’t spend too much time thinking about how she had gotten there, but if she did that she didn’t think anything bad. He patted her shoulder and noticed her jacket was very cool to the touch.

_Well duh it’s a cold night._ But remnants of his training floated back to him, stuff from way back when he thought he was going to be on a rescue team rather than a babysitter - _women have warmer cores but men are better at producing metabolic heat. She must be cold. Or not at warm as she could be._ Weiss quickly shed his own coat and draped it over her. He let his arm rest next to her so he wasn’t exactly touching her, but wasn’t exactly not-touching her either.

She was beautiful when she slept. She was beautiful all the time, even when she was ticked at him, because then she turned her lips a certain way and her eyes got bright and intense and her movements got very specific and curt. She didn’t like him too much. Maybe it was because he was short. Or not as thin as he could be. Or pointy-eared. Or balding. Or had all the tact of someone who uses a sledgehammer to swat flies. He shrugged to himself. But she was asleep, and the sun was coming up, so he pretended she liked him, and as he watched the light roll over the skyline he felt incredibly happy.

-

She was warm, she knew that much. She was lying on something firm but not unpleasantly so. She didn’t open her eyes yet, but she twitched her fingers and moved her arm a bit. There was a blanket over her… _where was she?_

She moved her legs and the ground underneath them was cold. The ground. The roof. Ben and Anna. Weiss. Her eyes snapped open and she propped herself up. 

Lap. 

_She had slept with her head on his lap._

She pulled farther away - _his torso_ \- almost to a sitting position - _would he be annoyed with her like she was with him?_ \- he caught her eyes and she knew instantly he wasn’t annoyed. 

He had the same dopey, contented look on his face that had been there earlier in the night.

She sat up completely, pulling the blanket from her shoulders which, when she had it half way off, she realized wasn’t a blanket - of course it’s not a blanket, how would he get a blanket up here? - but Weiss’ coat. 

Flustered and trying not to be, she handed it back to him, hurriedly returning to the notebook she had left next to her shoes.

“Sleep well?” He asked.

She just gave him one of her looks. This was the “please shut up, I’m busy, and you’re still a moron” look, but she tried not to make it as callous as it usually was.

He smiled at her, then looked away, staring at the sunrise again.

Yeah, he was a moron, Morales thought to herself. But he was a good moron.


End file.
